


Time Could (Never) Mend

by Pen_to_parchment



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Song: Cornelia Street (Taylor Swift), Songfic, jeyna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pen_to_parchment/pseuds/Pen_to_parchment
Summary: During an impromptu lesson on Roman history, Jason discovers that his co-praetor is more romantic than she's led him to believe. But there's more to discover on their road home, and much more to discover on the way back.[edited]“Why Via Cornelia?”“Because they loved each other. And because he always come home to her.”Reyna didn't walk that road in the next eight months. That road was their way home. It wasn't home to her anymore.
Relationships: Jason Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano
Comments: 14
Kudos: 24





	Time Could (Never) Mend

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't initially plan to write anything for this song, but upon digging up a little nugget of Roman history, I kind of had to. So is it a stretch? Yes. But does it work? Maybe... I'll let you be the judge of that.

“...and that’s why it’s called Via Principalis,” Reyna finished, a hint of pride in her voice. They were walking back from the Field of Mars after a particularly grueling round of War Games, especially for the referees. Meanwhile, Jason took to quizzing her on New Rome’s many roads and pointing to various street markers as they walked. Lawns flanked either side of the path they were on, and statues dotted the green around them. Above, stars began to pepper the late evening sky. 

The majority of the legionnaires walked in pairs in front of them and were already well on their way back to the barracks. A few were several paces behind, but none were close enough to be in earshot. Which meant they couldn’t hear their Praetor embarrass himself with a complete lack of knowledge of the Camp’s roadways. She frowned. “I would’ve thought you’d know all of this by now. You’ve lived here since you were two.” 

“I haven’t had the tour since then either,” he defended. She supposed that was fair. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know the roads themselves. He just didn’t know their names. Or the stories behind them. Still, she couldn’t imagine he’d been walking down dusty paths for the greater part of his life and was just now learning their histories. Though, with their recent promotion to praetors, now was as good a time as any to learn. 

“Besides,” Jason continued. “You’re a better tour guide than any Lar I could’ve gotten.” She smiled at that.

“Be glad I’m not a Lar. I’m sure they could tell you more… lewd things about road names.” 

He cringed. “Leave those parts out, then.” 

Reyna spread her hands, inviting further questions. “So what’s next?”

She watched him scan their surroundings. His eyes searched for road signs he had yet to ask about. 

“What about this one?” Jason pointed to the dirt beneath their feet. 

“This one?” Reyna echoed. She looked down for several moments. Watching their feet kick up dust as they walked, she let Jason wait patiently. “It doesn’t have a name,” she paused. “Not an official one, anyway. It’s too short, I guess.” The path itself connected the longer Via Praetoria to a small branch of the Via Principalis leading to the Praetor houses. From where they walked, their villas couldn’t have been more than a few hundred yards away. As this was the only road that led to the villas, they were really the only ones to use it. 

“Huh,” he frowned thoughtfully. “What do you mean ‘not an official one’?” 

“The Senate never cared enough to name it, so I did.” Reyna didn’t know why, but she was slightly embarrassed to admit the name—especially the sentiments behind it. Nevertheless, the blond cocked an eyebrow expectantly. 

“Well? What is it?” 

“Via Cornelia,” she finally answered. She gave him a sideways glance, waiting for him to realize the implications of the name she’d given.

Obviously, she had overestimated his knowledge of Roman history. 

Jason only looked confused. “And…?” He looked over imploringly. “Why Via Cornelia?” 

She hesitated and watched the legionnaires around them. Most were already filing into the barracks, and those following behind were absorbed in their own conversations. What would they think if they heard her explain? Most likely, she reasoned, they wouldn’t care. Still, fresh out of a war, did she want her first act in office to be to start a romance? To her surprise, Reyna found Jason’s eyes also surveying their surroundings. To her horror, he proceeded to cement whatever suspicions she feared the campers held. He took her hand. 

Her head snapped up to gape at him. She tried to pull her hand away. “What—?”

“No one’s watching,” he reasoned, already sensing her protests and squeezing tighter. “Please?” 

Reyna could hear the almost desperate tone of his voice and looped her arm through his. He instantly brightened. She had to admit, it felt nice, and a little rebellious, even, to be showing the slightest affection in public— though there was no one around. He seemed to have forgotten his earlier question, for a moment at least. She was naive enough to hope he had forgotten altogether. 

Unfortunately, the blond was not so easily thrown. He nudged her with his elbow, gently poking her side. “So? Why name it that?” 

She took a deep breath. “You know. _Cornelia_ ,” she started. 

“No, I don't.” 

Reyna huffed and rolled her eyes. “Cornelia. The first love of Julius Caesar? I hope you know who _that_ is, Grace.” 

In lieu of a response, she got a good-natured, though slightly harder, elbow to the ribs. She only smiled wryly up at him.

“And…?” Jason dragged the word out while rolling his hand. Oh, gods. He was really going to pry this out of her, wasn’t he? At least no one would hear. By now all the legionnaires were in the barracks.

They were the only ones left on the road. They had reached the crossroads where Via Cornelia intersected Via Principalis, providing a direct route to the villas. From here, the rest of the way was illuminated exclusively by torchlight, pointing the way. A warm wind whistled through the narrow alleys between the barracks and made the flames flicker, throwing shifting shadows onto the walls. 

Free to be a little more affectionate, Jason unhooked their arms and snaked his around her waist. She had neither the heart nor the will to object. 

“He married Cornelia for political reasons. He was vying for some priesthood or other and he needed a prominent partner in his campaign. So he chose her, the daughter of a distinguished statesman to marry. Roman politics was going through a bit of schism—though really, when was it not?” She paused to take a breath. “And Caesar didn’t want to be caught on the wrong side, so he made a power match with Cornelia to solidify his claim to the position.” 

Reyna looked over. Jason’s features were bent into a look of disappointment, almost. His mouth pulled his scar into a pout.

“Political reasons? I thought you said he loved her?” 

“I’m getting there!” she laughed. “Anyway, a statesman of the other side of the schism told Caesar he had to either divorce Cornelia or face execution.” 

“Why?” he interjected again. 

Reyna waved dismissively. “Political reasons. But he didn’t, and instead, he fled Rome and wandered around for a while before he was eventually caught by soldiers sent to find him. He had to pay protection money so he would be allowed back into the city, but he was reunited with his wife.” 

“And that’s why you named it after her? Because Caesar didn’t divorce her?” 

“Did I say I was finished? He went off to war three years after that.” 

Jason's eyebrows arched up. “Seriously? How did they even find time to fall in love?” 

_Well, we managed_ , she wanted to say. Instead, “You underestimate the importance of letters.” She jabbed his chest playfully. “They wrote hundreds to each other in the years he was gone. Because—“

“Of political reasons?” Jason joked and glanced at her knowingly. 

“Because they loved each other,” she corrected. 

He smiled. “That’s a nice change.” 

She might have imagined him giving her side a light squeeze.

“So what happened when he got home?” 

“They were happy for a while. Until Cornelia got sick and died a few years later. Caesar delivered a long oration at her funeral, which wasn’t the norm back then, since those were usually reserved for older women rather than younger ones. She’s famous for that. Her husband was one of the first to publicly mourn and remember his wife that way.” 

“So everyone knew how much they loved each other?” 

Reyna leaned her head on his shoulder. “You could say that.”

“Must be nice,” she didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice.

She stopped short and pulled him back when he continued walking. “Jase, I—“

“No, it’s fine. You’re right,” he sighed, taking hold of her hands. But his pained expression told her he thought otherwise. “We’re new to leading and everything. But when will I be able to do this in front of other people?” He swung their joined hands slightly as they began to walk again. 

“Soon,” she assured him. “When the dust settles and the Legion’s ready. When _we’re_ ready.” She could tell he knew what she meant by that. When _she_ was ready. He’d been prepared to shout from New Rome’s red-tiled rooftops since before the war. This was a matter of how comfortable she was with the idea. And she knew he would respect that. Even if he had to keep off the roofs for a little longer. 

The wind picked up, and torches shuddered along the walls. That night promised change. Whether good or bad, however, Reyna didn’t know. Either way, she didn’t like it. She squeezed his hand as they continued walking in comfortable silence for several minutes. Until Jason ventured, “So, you named it Via Cornelia because Caesar married her for political reasons, decided not to divorce her for political reasons,” he paused “...But he remembered her because he loved her?” 

She nodded. “And because he always came home to her in the end.” 

They came to a stop in front of their villas. “Perfect timing,” Jason said beside her, grinning. 

The sky above them descended from the purple far above into the orange of a waning evening’s light. Still the wind blew, and, despite its warmth, it chilled her to the bone. It was the kind of wind that stirred the old and the new, and it unsettled her.

Perhaps, then, she shouldn’t have been surprised when he wasn’t home the next day. 

But in that moment, standing hand-in-hand, she didn’t yet know everything that would be taken away from her. 

“Even after leaving Rome, he found his way back…” 

_Reyna never walked that road in those eight months. She elected to take the longer standard route on the Via Principalis. Via Cornelia was the way home. Torches marched down the walls like memories. That wasn’t home anymore. She took the road to her villa and the empty one next to it._

“...and when he was off fighting his own battles, he thought of who he was fighting for…” 

_It pains her to see their city up in arms. They used to scream his name in adoration. Now, they scream for his blood. Jason Grace is as ingrained in New Rome’s foundations, and in her, as the frescoes in the forum, and the city was threatening to collapse. So was she. After all, Rome is the city where memories are chiseled in marble, and somehow, he’d torn it all down._

“...and he always, always came home to her.” 

She imagines the next time Via Cornelia sees use is when he walks it during a routine visit to Camp. Where once there had been two sets of footsteps weathered into the dust, only one, fresh set marked the undisturbed dirt. At first, she thinks nothing of it. It was the shorter way, after all, and it wasn’t as if he remembered its significance. But when she opens the door, she finds she’s wrong. 

He’s standing there sheepishly, one hand combing nervously through his hair, longer than before, after so much time. A purple shirt had long since been exchanged for an orange one. He’s standing there as an altogether different person. But he’s there. And his eyes betray—dare she hope, after everything?—recognition.

“I’m home,” he breathes. His mouth stays open for a moment too long, and she knows he wants to say more. But that much is enough for her. _Perfect timing._

“Welcome back.”


End file.
